What else is there to do, but write?

How else am I supposed to 

put my emotions on display?

When I write, I let you in.

I want you to

Come in.

I want you to be able to see

the very depths of my soul.

My strongest emotions,

my deepest fears.

I would like to be

an open book.

So what else is there to do, but write?

There are so many thoughts,

and emotions,

and inklings,

and desires.

Read them for me.

Read them from me.

I have experienced

(crippling) sadness

(crippling) anger

(crippling) fear

(crippling) joy

(crippling) love,

From every combination of twenty-six letters

that has ever crossed my path.

I want to cripple you;

To make you weak.

I want to be all-powerful;

A goddess of emotion.

So what else is there to do,

but write?